


Strings

by p_itch



Category: One Piece, anime - Fandom
Genre: Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader Insert, Reader has predetermined looks, third person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-08-24 12:23:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8372209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p_itch/pseuds/p_itch
Summary: This story is set at the end of the Dressrosa arc, with some modifications. Doflamingo was beaten, but not captured by Marines.- - - - -You are his creation, made of string and gold, and this is your story, your log of adventures and experiences, from your creation...to your end.





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You, _______, are created of string and gold. 
> 
> Welcome to the world.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading! This is a full re-write of the series I already posted on my dA, but it's old, and bad, so I'm rewriting it and posting it here. Please leave feedback and critique! But please be gentle on my poor soul. Thanks!
> 
> Chapter Word Count: 1464

The wind whipped viciously around the rocky cliff face that the small group was standing on. Two with Devil Fruit abilities, and a small crowd of three or four people. A pink feathered coat was sailing in the breeze, held in place by a sturdy grip of a tanned, tall man with dusty blonde hair who was sitting on a wide tree stump. His eyes glittered behind his glasses, as he mulled over what the fat, sweaty man in front of him had says. “So...you’re saying, if I make a puppet, you can make it real?” Joker asked, his ever-present wicked grin growing wider. The slightly fat, and very short man in front of him nodded vigorously. Still sweating just as vigorously.

“Y-yes, I can, Doflamingo, sir. The Animate Devil Fruit allows me to touch inanimate objects -- or just things that aren’t really alive -- and bring that inanimate object to life. It’s actually quite-”

“I get it. But now, the question is...should I make another me?” His fingers twitch, and another Doflamingo forms from a whirlwind of string, smirking and standing in his natural lazy, smug posture. “Or someone else?” the clone of Doflamingo was once again consumed by a whirlwind of string, and another, slimmer shape is formed. A male, with black hair and closed eyes, flawless tanned skin. The color shifts and ripples, and Doflamingo hums, cocking his head and staring at it with a frown. “Maybe something more...innocent,” he hums, and flicks his hand once more. The tanned male shifts, growing slightly paler, shrinking and expanding, a bosom flowering on the chest, hips widening and waist shrinking. It slowly slumps backward, until it was lying on its back. Pale blonde hair flowed from the newly made scalp, pulsing down the form until it reached the waist. The vibrant hair floated around its head, in a near-perfect circle. One of Doflamingo’s minions quickly tossed a blanket over the form, nervously.

“Go on, then.” Doflamingo says, smirking at the fat Animate fruit user. He nervously moves forwards, swallowing thickly and falling to his knees roughly by the figure. He reaches out, cupping the female’s face. Doflamingo’s eyes narrow imperceptibly. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and licking his lips, only to let it out slowly. The air he exhales from his lungs looks like a fine, shimmering mist of gold, the particles sticking together and forming a sort of web. It floats down, settling on the sculpted face. The web glows as it settles on the form, before absorbing into the flawless skin. He removes his hands, and stands, hopping back a few steps. Doflamingo stares at the form, and flicks his eyes up to the Animate fruit user then back again. After a few minutes, his deep voice rumbles in a low growl, “I thought you says it would come to life.”

“J-just give it time, Jo- Dofla- Sir!” The man stuttered. “It will happen, I assure you!”

“I did give you time. But now, the question is, did you waste _my_ time?” Doflamingo stood from his seat on the tree stump, towering over the poor, frightened man. He grabbed the man’s throat, digging his fingers in deep and hard. “Don’t make me throw you off the cliff-”

A gasping breath of air cuts him off. A flurry of harsh coughing follows, punctuated by raspy gasps. He turns, still holding the now-purple man by his throat. The angry look is replaced by a confused one, as his eyes search out the source, to land on the form lying on the ground.

His puppet...he had cut off the connection. It should have dissolved back into a pile of useless strings, that would soon disappear. But it was still there, its blonde hair framing its- no, _her_ \- face like a shining halo. She slowly sits up, eyes wide in fear. She holds the blanket to her chest, somehow aware that she was naked and it wasn’t _proper_ to be seen naked by who she considered complete strangers.

She crawled backwards, the fear slowly turning into terror as she sees Doflamingo still gripping the grape-colored man by his throat. Her back bumps against a rock, making her let out a slightly startled whimper. Doflamingo drops the man, who falls to his knees, clutching at his red and bruised throat. He turns to face her, eyes wide behind his glasses.

“It’s...alright,” he begins, but it’s weak. He tries to take a step forwards, but she flinches back. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you. I would never hurt you,” he says, in a soft, almost _gentle_ voice. He gestures to one of his lackeys, who immediately takes off his coat and offers it to the girl. She slips it on quickly, zipping it up. The sleeves went far over her hands, and the coat itself ended at her knees. “I can’t believe...it worked,” he murmurs, a smile beginning to take over his face. “Can you speak?”

“Doflamingo...she just came alive. I don’t know if she knows-”

“I... _know_ what you’re saying.” The girl says, cutting the lackey that began to speak off and making everyone go silent again. “I...” she says, in a quieter voice, before pressing her lips in a tight line and refusing to speak more.

“Well...you’re going to need a name.” She stays silent. “Do you have any preferences?” Doflamingo asks, cocking his head and raising an eyebrow, with that ever-present smile on his face. “Anne? Christie? Maribella? _______?" Doflamingo suggested, walking back and forth. Her wary pale blue eyes never left him. But she did perk up at the sound of one of the names.

After a few moments silence, she finally answers. “..._______. I like _______.” She says slowly, testing the name on her tongue.

“Alright. Hello, _______.” Doflamingo says, holding his hands out to the sides, a pleasant smile stretching across his face. It was a trustworthy smile to this girl, new to the world. Little did she know, he only planned on using her. To test her, see what she can do. He wanted to raise her to be a fighter, the best fighter one could ask for.

“Seeing as how you do not have a place to go...would you like to stay here?” He says, cocking his head a bit.

“I...suppose...” the girl says hesitantly, standing a bit straighter and pulling the jacket tighter around her bare form. Doflamingo’s smile grows wider, and maybe a bit more feral.

“He will show you to your room." He says, gesturing to one of the many people with matching coats gathered on the cliff. He nods, turning and walking down the cliff’s small path to a small building at the end of the long, gently sloping down road. The girl with pale blonde hair followed, hesitantly at first. But as their figures disappeared into the house, Doflamingo’s mouth spread into a wolfish grin. He ran a hand through his short blond hair, and started laughing.

“What...a pleasant surprise...I wonder how useful she will be?” He asks the emptiness, laughing. He turns back to the cliff, and his fingers twitched. The fat man, who had been cowering in a corner, jerks upwards into a standing position in response. “I think you have outlived your usefulness...” He says, and his fingers shifted again. The man started walking, unwillingly, towards the edge of the cliff, to the tune of Doflamingo’s laughter. “As much as I could have another, I don’t want anybody else getting their hands on something like this.”

“P-please! No! I did everything you asked! You promised me! You promised!” The man shouts, struggling futilely that only results in a few jerky twitches.

Joker laughs, his fingers still moving. “I didn’t lie. I promised you many riches. There are many riches at the bottom of the ocean down there.” His smile grows wider. “Shame you won’t be able to live to use it.”

“P-p-please! Please no! I-I did everything you said! Plea- **_please_ **!” The plump man cuts himself off with a horrible screech as he steps off the cliff. He tumbles through the air, smashing against the side of the cliff, and plummeting into the icy cold waters. He sunk like a stone to the bottom of the sea, resting on a bed of gold coins. And the Joker struts back to the separate room on their small compound, and sits down on his bed, content and chuckling to himself.

This is how it began. This is how you were born. Doflamingo weaved you from his strings, and life was breathed into your body. You were made of Joker’s string. In essence, he was almost like a father. You are _______, born of string and gold. And this is how your life began.


	2. Favors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watery fun ensues. _______ has abilities she didn't even know she had. Then not-so-fun watery times. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading! This is a full re-write of the series I already posted on my dA, but it's old, and bad, so I'm rewriting it and posting it here. Please leave feedback and critique! But please be gentle on my poor soul. Thanks! 
> 
> Rizak and Mikai are randoms, though Mikai will probably appear more than Rizak. 
> 
> Only because I like his name more. 
> 
> Chapter Word Count: 3388
> 
> Also if anyone knows how to get rid of the chapter notes from last chapter from the bottom of this chapter, please tell. AUSdhjidsf

_______ had been adjusting nicely to this new world she had been born into. Many of the lackeys have been telling her about who Doflamingo was, his Warlord title and how he came into it from being so powerful and strong, and why they were on this cliff in the middle of the ocean instead of Dressrosa, where they were from and where many of them called “home”, apparently. According to them, some crazy, _raving_ pirates called the Straw Hats had driven them from their home, after nearly killing Doflamingo.

Doflamingo was also always testing her, and made some of his people teach her, asking her if she felt like she could do anything she couldn’t do before, and having one of the “footsoldiers” -- as she’s come to refer to them -- put this strange, pretty blue stone on her skin. It was cold, but that was all it did. Doflamingo seemed to be a bit disappointed each time she says nothing has changed. It confused her, honestly.

“_______!” Someone called. Her favorite spot was up on the cliff’s edge, so it was often people didn’t know where she was. It sounded like Frederick, one of Doflamingo’s footsoldiers.

“I’m over here.” _______ calls back, though not nearly as loud as the man yelled, not nearly loud enough to pierce through the veil of wind that howled around the cliff’s edge.

“What are you doing up here, _______?” Frederick asks, after he runs up the path towards her.

“Thinking,” is all she says in response. She immediately continues, answering the unasked question forming at Frederick’s mouth. “I don’t know. Stuff in general,” she adds, staring out at the crisp blue ocean. Seagulls were flying around, squawking annoyingly. It added to the general sounds, of the wind, of extremely faint speaking from far away, and of the waves crashing against the stone far below. It was peaceful.

“Well, someone decided to throw a pool party. Come on, everyone is invited.” Frederick says, and holds out his hand for her to take. So, she takes it, accepting his offer at helping her up.

She thought about going to a pool party. Honestly, she didn’t really know what it entailed. She knew what pools are, but she’s never been to a _party_. “Come on, it’s gonna be fun. Come swim with us!” _______ stares at him for a few moments, raising an eyebrow. She notes his hair, and grins a little. Now, _______ had a plan. To mess up Frederick’s perfect hair. Obviously the most evil plan she’s ever created.

She follows Frederick down to the back of the main compound, where all of the footsoldiers have dug a massive pit and furnished it to look nice. Tiles on the bottom, stone lining the walls, and clear water filling it to the brim. There were already at least ten people in the pool, splashing around and roughhousing.

Surprisingly, Doflamingo himself was reclining in a chair, his hands behind his head. He had discarded his feathered coat, and it was lying in a fluffy pink heap next to him. It looked like he was sleeping. _______ shrugged, and heads towards the pool, kicking her shoes off while she walks. The people already splashing around quickly stopped when they saw her step towards the pool, in her simple black tank top and blue jean shorts. _______ could swear they seemed _tense_ even, but she must have been imagining it. She dove in, the cool water caressing her skin as she glides through the water. _______’s head breaks through the surface, and her long, pale blonde hair was plastered to the back of her neck and back. The minions were watching her, and slowly start grinning as he raise an eyebrow at them, treading water instinctively. With a grin, she splashes at the nearest one, and squeals when they all started splashing her.

_______ and the minions already had a true camaraderie, and they accepted her readily. It was tense at first, but they soon got used to her, and she, them.

_______ jumped on someone’s back, dragging him under. Then she felt the bottom of your feet get tickled, and she lurches back, falling back-first into the water. She HATES being tickled. She just figured that out now. Someone grabbed her arm and pulled her out from the water, and she spat out a mouthful of the stuff.

“You okay, _______?” the guy asks, grinning at her with a tinge of worry in his eyes. He was worried he may actually of hurt _______. Her only response was to grin as well, then swipe at the water with her entire inner arm, sending a large wave crashing on his face. And so the horseplay continues, jovial shouts and splashes in the face. _______ got picked up and thrown into the water, screeching about getting put down the entire time, with a large smile on her face. She wasn’t expecting this random pool party to actually be fun, but it most definitely was.

After a while of horseplay, maybe an hour, hour and a half’s worth, she decided to get out. She pulls herself up over the edge, turning to sit on the edge of the pool, legs still in the water. She kicks water at someone who threatened to splash her, and then scampers away, flinging water in her wake as she moves.

She sunbathes, humming softly as she soaks up the sun, the warm light drying her flawless skin. The ground underneath her was soft, somewhat damp from the water splashed from the pool, but it quickly dried as well in the heat of the day mixed with the wind that curled around the cliffside building. But as time went on, and it got more silent around the pool, and she began to get the inkling of something _bad_ was about to happen.

Boy, was _______ right about that. Suddenly, without warning, a wave of cold water washes over her form. She is immediately soaked, and shrieks at the ice that remained behind on her skin. In an instant, _______ is on her feet, eyes wide and shivering slightly as she looks around for who did it. Three suspects were standing by the edge of the pool, one of which was holding a bucket, remnants of water (with ice cubes) still inside at the bottom.

With a dramatic look, as _______ takes a threatening -- but in reality, the most non-threatening -- step forwards, she grins gleefully. “Oh, it’s _on._ ”

Cue awesome water-fight montage.

Including a Doflamingo making someone walk into the pool after water nearly splashed on him. What a cheater. 

 

Later into that night, she went to bed waterlogged. But _______ was glowing; that little water fight had done wonders for her mood. She was smiling as she fell asleep, drifting off into a calm darkness.

About two weeks later, _______ has taken to roaming the halls of the new Donquixote base. She has also somehow managed to lose Mikai, Doflamingo’s newest right-hand man, after a few minutes of twisting and turning through the hallways. It was strange, because it almost felt like he was stalking _______, and it made her...uncomfortable.

The place had been upgraded, too. From just a simple wooden hut to an elaborate, medium-sized sandstone house. It was pretty nice, actually. While she was wandering, she just happened to stumble upon the meeting room, where Doflamingo held his meetings with the closer members of the Donquixote family. She kept close to the wall, not realizing she was listening in on a very, very private conversation.

“...don’t have any powers, she hasn’t done anything for the past month and a half.” She heard Mikai mutter, and heard a slight grunt afterwards. She frowns, a tad confused. Wasn’t he following her not even ten minutes before?

“_______ was made from my string, and my string was given by a Devil Fruit. Surely she has something in her. And, I couldn’t control her at all back at the pool. I couldn’t even turn her back into strings,” he paused, and she hears the sound of someone scratching against rough stubble, likely Mikai. “Mikai, you’re to find out what.” Doflamingo says, and you could almost hear his head resting in his hand.

“What?! How am I supposed to do that, Doflamingo?” Mikai asks, indignant and more than a little frustrated.

“I don’t care. Attack her, force her to do something. I want to know what _______ can do.” Doflamingo replies, his voice even, but with a hard edge. _______ hears Mikai sigh in response.

“Fine. I’ll...I’ll try.”

“Good, good. I’m glad.” Doflamingo says. She could hear the grin in his voice, and chewed her lip, not liking what she was hearing. He chuckled. “Now, about that Marine we captured. Have you gotten anything from him, Rizak?” Doflamingo asks, now addressing one of the newer members of the Donquixote Family.

The baritone answers swiftly, the clacking of his boots on the sandstone floor accompanying his words, “No, sir. But I’m not done _working_ with him yet. I can guarantee I’ll get it out eventually. And then, I’ll send him back to the Navy HQ...in one bloody piece at a time.” Your eyes widened at Rizak’s cold, unemotional response.

“I think I’ll visit him myself later on tonight, as well.” Doflamingo adds on, and laughs a little, in his off-putting, contagious way.

_One piece at a time?_ Was Doflamingo ordering Rizak to... _torture_ a man? _______ grits her teeth, and doesn’t wait to hear the rest of the conversation. She storms off, confusion and anger welling up inside.

Eventually, she cools down a little. Thoughts flood her mind, and she decides to go looking for where Doflamingo would keep a prisoner. She wanders through the halls, keeping to the shadows and keeping her steps silent. Her feet felt kind of numb, in a way, but warm. And because she was actually searching for a secret room...she finds one. She sneaks inside, closing the door gently behind her. It’s pitch black inside. _______ pulls out a box of matches that she totally didn’t klepto from someone in the Donquixote Family from her coat, and strikes one against the wall. A small blossom of light is born, and slightly illuminates the insides of the room.

She finds it. _______ sees the man, no more than twenty-five, tied to a post in the center of the pitch black room. Wearing nothing but simple sack clothes and no shirt, he was battered and bloody; an obviously broken nose, blood trickling from both nostrils. His eyes were swollen and bruised, and he was nearly unable to open one of them. Cuts and gashes littered his face, cheeks, eyebrows...his lips were split and raw, and blood trickled from his ear. A deep, dark bruise went across the entire left side of his jaw, and there was blood on the pillar he was tied to and the floor beneath him. To _______’s left, there’s a table with bloodied instruments resting atop it. Knives and scalpels and saws and other unidentifiable equipment, of all shapes and sizes. All of them had blood coated on their surfaces. _______ breaths out a small, shaky sigh of horror at the scene that had unfolded in front of her, in this dark room.

And, from just that slight noise she made, the man jerked awake. He shakes where he’s tied, his vision...not so great. As he awakens, he immediately spits out a mouthful of slightly coagulated blood, only to look at _______’s silhouette in terror.

“P-please don’t hurt me...I already tol-” he’s cut off by a major coughing fit, blood spattering his already bloody form. “I already...told him everything I kn-...know...” His voice was hoarse and raspy, each breath a wheeze. She pulls out a small water bottle from her coat, uncapping it and quickly holding it to his lips.

“Shh...don’t talk. Just drink. You’ll be fine, okay? I’ll get you out of here. I promise.” _______ says, in a soft murmur, attempting to calm him. He stares warily, and she can easily see the fear in his eyes. Without further words, _______ sloshes the bottle in front of him. For a man that’s nearly dying of dehydration, that was all the influence he needed to drink. He drinks greedily, and the whole bottle was empty in but a few seconds. She drops it to the ground, rolling it away.

“Wh...who are you?” he asks, breathing heavily as he shifts, groaning in pain at the pull of the tears across his body. _______ could tell he’s already getting stronger from just a few sips of water, giving her a warm burst of hope. He sets off on another coughing fit, more blood dribbling down his chin.

“I’m _______,” she replies, smiling warmly down at him despite.

“Well, _______, you said...that you’d help me leave...? Was that a joke?” he asks, his breathing slowly steadying as he coughs out the blood in his lungs. She can easily see the quiet, desperate hope in his eyes.

_______ nods, determined. “Yeah, I am. Come on.” She unties his bonds, and helps him to his feet, ignoring the blood soaking into her clothes. “Can you walk?” She asks, feeling his weight press heavily and almost painfully onto her shoulder.

“Barely.” He replies, wobbling a bit as he stands, with _______’s help.

She only nods, letting out a small, high-pitched grunt. “Alright, come on.” She says, and begins leading him to the door. She drops the match after futilely trying to keep hold of it, stepping on it with her bare feet. Surprising her, it didn’t burn her skin. She gently cracked the door open with one foot, looking for anyone that might notice the two. There was no one, so she steps outside, leading the wounded Marine. You walked through the halls, sticking to the shadows once again. The Marine glanced at _______, frowning painfully.

“You know this place well,” he points out quietly, his eyes narrowing a slight bit.

She pauses, nodding slowly as they keep moving, at a slow, painful shuffle. “I...live here,” she says softly, and the Marine looks at her with a start. Before he has a chance to speak, however, she does first; “Just because I live with them doesn’t mean I condone what they’re _doing_.” _______’s voice slowly drops to a whisper, and she shakes her head. “Torture is...it’s just wrong. If I had known about this sooner...” _______ trailed off, anger making her blood hot. “We need to be quiet. We can’t be caught,” she insists, huffing slightly. Her brow is furrowed as they walk. She leads him through the halls, thankfully without incident. And eventually, they managed to get outside, and she tensely led him down the gravel path to the shore. “There’s a small boat down there...you can leave on that.”

“How do you expect me to sail in my _condition_?” He asks skeptically, voice raspy. He spits out a globule of blood for emphasis, clutching his side as their footsteps crunch on the gravel. The wound weeps blood through his fingers, that are already stained red. She bites her lip. She hasn’t actually thought about that.

“I’ll figure it out,” She says weakly, and continues to the shore, waiting for the moment for someone to spot her, escorting their prisoner, away from the base. Waiting to be caught, and brought in front of Doflamingo.

Thankfully, it didn’t happen. It takes fifteen long, gravel-grinding minutes to get to the shore. She helps him into the small wooden boat with some difficulty, and finally, turns to leave. Before she can go however, he grabs her wrist before she could. She lets out a startled yelp, muted by the waves crashing on the shore. “I told you, I can’t sail like this...” he says, holding his still-bleeding wounds. She shakes off his hand from her wrist, and sighs, kneeling down next to the boat, a frown etching her face.

She tries to think back, remembering the times she eavesdropped on Doflamingo. He made her, from his string. He suspects she can _do_ something. _______ frowns, shaking her head. What on earth did he mean? “Something” isn’t really specific.

Well, there’s only one way to find out.

She focuses, on what, she doesn’t know. Her fingertips gently brush the lip of the gouge on the Marine’s side, the blood warm and sticky. She bites her lip, ignoring the way he looks at her, in complete and utter confusion. She closes her eyes.

_______ doesn’t know what she’s doing, but she can feel _something_. Like something’s calling out to her, almost...

She latches onto that feeling, onto that faint voice tickling the back of her thoughts. She channels all of that energy, that buildup that rises from her stomach and into her chest. She swallows thickly, feeling sick, like her heart’s in her throat.

Slowly, very slowly, she feels a sort of tingling. It begins in her chest, over her heart, and spreads out over her shoulders. It itches, almost, be she resists the urge to scratch at it. It moves down her arms, twisting around like a snake coiling around her arm. The tingling falls like sand into her fingertips, growing more intense as it all seems to settle there.

_______ opens her eyes, wincing and biting down on her lip harder. She looks at the wound, and her eyes widen slightly. Her fingertips were turning white. The nail and everything. As that tingling wells up, almost painfully in her fingertips, she watches as her fingertips _split_...they split apart into multiple strands, thin and probably near invisible if they weren’t bundled up in one place.

With a more intense focus, she concentrates...and the strings moved to her will. Well, kind of. She attempted to focus more, trying to strengthen her control over the strings. Her lip was bleeding from how hard she was biting it. And then, it suddenly clicked. She got it to work. All of her fingers had entirely dissolved into strings, that moved on her will, on her control. It _hurt_ , like she was sticking them in fire, but she could control them. _______ attempted to focus just a little more, just a little longer.

The strings that used to be her fingers sprawled out across the wound, pulling the sides together and stitching it shut. She made knots with a simple thought, and broke them off the rest of the string with another. All it left was a single line of stitching, thin and near perfect.

Finally, she pulled her hand away, and looks at the strings that floated on her hand, connected to where her fingers used to be. She watched, in awe, as they started to twist together, twining into a thicker cord, roughly forming the shape of her fingers. The strings suddenly smooth out, forming the defined shapes of her fingers, but waxy and colorless. And then, the color creeps up her hands, into her fingers, and the color returned. Her fingers returned back to how they were, as if they never split apart into thousands of strings in the first place.

Both Marine and young girl were in awe, both confused, and both more than a little thankful. She had no idea she could do this, and it was scary but awesome. “Alright...how about now?” _______ asks with a small, pleased grin. He nods slowly.

“If I take it slow...I can probably make it without bleeding out. And..._______. Thank you. Thank you for helping me.” He pauses, nodding at her. He gives her a small, weak saute. “I would stand, but I don't think I can.” He grinned a bit when he says that. “Just...if you ever need help, ask for Gethin.” He nods, like that's all he wanted to say. Then he grabs the oars with a pained groan, and pushes off from the shore with a bit of effort. “Thank you again, _______.”

And then he started rowing. She watched the small boat until it turned into nothing but a small blip on the pristine blue horizon, and continued watching it until it was gone. All the while, she was smiling. And she didn’t even know she was.


End file.
